Police Officer Punch Cards - Is that a thing?

“Get in the car.” I said.

He looked at me and said, “What the fuck is your problem?”

In my head I was screaming, but my face remained calm and resolute.

As furious as I was, I had promised myself that this time, I wasn’t going to yell, or scream or even react. I had read enough parenting books to know that a reaction is exactly what he wanted. Giving him a reaction, meant relinquishing my parental power. Giving him a reaction, meant relinquishing control (which was completely laughable, control of what…this whole situation was a fucking nightmare and was completely out of control).

I said nothing, took a deep breath, gripped the steering wheel and started the drive home.

“By the way, I didn’t eat at school and you are required by law to feed me”, he said.

“Yes, you are right, I'll make you a sandwich when we get home and then you will need to go to your room.” I responded.

“I’m not eating that shit.” he said.

My mom was there when I got to the house. She looked at me with fear and sadness in her eyes. 

He went to his room, looked at me and said "If you open this fucking door, I will punch you in the fucking face." and then he proceeded to slam the door so hard that it seemed to make the house shake.

I believed him. It wasn't the first time that he had threatened me. The scars on my arms were evidence that he had no sense of boundaries or respect, and when he was like this, he was impulsive and psychotic.

I didn't even know what he was so mad about. He had been suspended, AGAIN, and it wasn’t even for something that he was “accused of” or “might have done’. He legitimately did it. He admitted to it, he was proud of it and he felt justified in doing it.  

I sat at the kitchen table, and about that time I felt the walls of our home begin to shake. He was ripping the sheetrock out of the walls. 

I didn't know what to do...so I called the police. They knew me, they knew us. This wasn't their first time coming to the house. Police Officer Punch Cards, I should have had one. 10th visit earns you a "get out of jail free card" or a free Taco...I hadn't eaten...I was too stressed to eat.

In my head I pretended that the police department cared and were hurrying as fast as they could to come help me. In reality, they thought I was some lazy ass mom who couldn't manage her kid OR they had NO FUCKING CLUE what to do. 

I looked at the clock…what the hell is taking them so long? Surely this time, they would see that this kid is not okay. Surely they would see that this situation was dangerous, that he was not fit to be in my home, that I was not fit to provide him with what he needed…but in the back of my mind, I knew, that nothing would happen…they would come, talk to him about Jesus, tell him to act right or he would go to jail and then they would leave. He would look at me with this sadistic smirk and laugh, because he knew I was grasping at straws. The police wouldn't do anything to him and there was nothing I could do about it.

I wanted them to take him to the detention center, if for nothing else, so that I could sleep with my eyes closed, my babies in my arms and our bedroom doors unlocked. I wanted to breathe for 24 hours without fear...I forgot what that felt like.

I sat, staring at the table just seething in anger. My heart was in my throat and I could hear my heartbeat pulsing through my ears.

The doorbell rang.

Standing at the door was a police officer. A tall white woman. It was the first female police officer I had dealt with and so I was so hopeful that she would show me some empathy.

        "So, I hear that you can't manage your kid." She said. 

        "Let me show you how it is done." and then she proceeded to walk to his room.

There he was, sitting on his bed, sheetrock all over the room and his entire bedroom set in broken wooden pieces. He looked past her straight at me and smiled, that sadistic smirk to remind me that I was grasping at straws, the police wouldn't do anything and there wasn't shit I could do about it.